


The Moon Lives in the Lining of Your Skin

by circumlucent



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: Choking, Constellations, F/M, First Meeting, Goddess and shepherd, Hunting, Masturbation, Metamorphosis, Mind Manipulation, Moving Tattoo(s), Outdoor Sex, Repulsion and Attraction, Underworld, Vaginal Sex, first encounter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-02-08 22:33:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12874455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circumlucent/pseuds/circumlucent
Summary: Rewriting the myth of Selene and Endymion





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night in Elis

The sunset caught him by surprise, while ascending the hills around Elis. The Western horizon was on fire: hot pink turned into mauve, orange into gold, the bright colours fading into paleness, then darkness. The fleece of his sheep took the tones of the sky, until only spots of glassy white were visible. His servants were silent, careful steps and tired limbs. When they heard his whistle, they turned left, until they reached a cypress-flanked road. Human and sheep feet walked down that road, until he heard the familiar sound of a brook and rustling grass under his feet. The servants and their dogs herded the animals, fed them and got ready for their night rest.

Alone, he moved by the limits of the forest, where the brook flowed; he knelt on the grass and said grace to the gods for the safe trip and safer arrival. He put his hands on his face, eyes closed, and prayed. He suddenly felt tired, eyelids heavy with sleep. He looked up and saw the moon in the sky, casting its light on the grass and on the forest, playing hide-and-seek in the waters, turning the herd into a ghostly white army.

"I want to sleep," he thought, but his eyes were still fixed on the moon. He wanted to read the sky and retrace the journeys he had already taken there. He wanted to find the chariot-shaped cluster of stars again, and climb it, and take a ride in the darkness. He was tired and now willing to fall asleep, when a splashing sound by the brook caught his attention.

"It must be an animal drinking," he thought. He was used to seeing in the darkness, so he turned to the spot which seemingly was the source of the sound. The splashing continued not far from him, on the other bank of the brook. Thin red threads appeared on the water, but the stream dispersed them and carried them away. Red threads blossoming from an unknown shape which he could see in the dim light, protected by the green vault of the forest trees.

He heard someone murmuring indiscernible words, then fabric softly trailing on the grass, then silence. He looked again at the spot where splashing had now been replaced by trickling and realised the shape was human. It moved along the brook, until it reached a clear spot and he could see it. By the light of the moon, now brighter, he saw her, holding a couple of dead rabbits by their ears. Water trickled off her long white hair, and blood trickled off the animals' paws, their furs shiny and luscious. The water falling from her black tunic trickled on her bare feet, covered in dark drawings. He looked at her holding his breath, terrified and transfixed.

Was a snake the shape outlined on her feet? Or was it a knot of snakes? And... was... it...moving? "My time has come," he thought. Yet he didn't move and looked on. They undeniably were snakes, and they were creeping, imperceptibly, each slick belly sliding along the others. Then she started running her fingers through her hair and his eyes moved there. He caught a glimpse of black designs crawling on her hands and something inside him cracked. He heard a muffled buzzing coming from the shape, or maybe it was just the feeling he got after realising bees were drawn on her hands. He wanted to look away but he couldn't. Her arms were hosting a certain number of stags slowly lifting their horns to the sky. His soul was screaming but nothing came out of his mouth, not even when the pearly eyes of the stags turned to look at him.

As if following an order, she turned to him and asked: "Who's there?"

His mouth opened but no sound escaped. She asked again. He knew she was looking at him, but couldn't dare to reciprocate that look. He knelt on the grass, covering his head with his arms, and waited.

She scoffed: "I'm talking to you."

So he barely raised his head and replied: "I'm the prince of this land. I'm Endymion."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've chosen to use the trimorphe version of the myth according to which Selene (Greek goddess of the moon) takes the form of Hecate (chtonic deity of the underworld) and Artemis (goddess protecting wild animals, hunt, vegetation, chastity and childbirth), too. The beauty of this version is in the complexity of the goddess, who thus represents the realms of the sky, the earth and the underworld. I'll sometimes refer to the character using her three names, but Endymion will always call her Artemis.


	2. Chapter 2

"Show your face, Endymion. Raise your head and offer yourself to the moon."

The deepest part of his being, the most sacred folds of his soul were shaking with fear, but he obeyed and showed his face to the shape standing on the other side of the brook. He was tired and he knew he would fall asleep in no time, given the chance; yet he was there, still kneeling on the grass, executing the orders of a stranger.

"Are you a shepherd?" she asked.

"I am a prince," he replied.

"No, you are a shepherd. Your herd is one of my favourites."

He gulped: why did he have a feeling she already knew everything about him? But he didn't speak, didn't dare to look away either.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Ypochthonii," he thought, but how could he say that word aloud? The thought of it made his limbs go cold. If she was who he thought, she already knew his answer. She protected his sheep, all the wild animals, but she was the huntress, too. She was the mountain roamer, the one who protected crossroads. Chaste and fertile. Riding her chariot in the night sky, and travelling the underworld. One, yet three-faced.

"You don't speak, but I heard you," and she laughed. He heard that faint buzzing sound again, as if her mouth was filled with bees.  
"Tonight I took two of your rabbits, but you know they're actually mine, so I guess you won't mind."

Down went his head again: he prostrated himself before her.

"Stand up, Endymion. Don't hide from me," but he didn't move.

He felt a swooshing movement and next thing he knew, she was standing right in front of him. He glanced at her feet, and realised the snakes were actually moving, and hissing happily. She touched his shoulder with her hand and something inside him withered. He peeked through the hands clasped on his face and there it was, her hand, waiting for him.

"Give me your arm and walk me to your herd, prince."

He slowly stood up and realised with horror he was towering over her. He bowed down, feeling ashamed.

She laughed again: "Don't be silly. It's not your fault."

He stood up again and finally dared to look at her. His soul screamed and his heart couldn't beat at a higher speed, but he knew he had to do it. The heterochromia of her eyes was complete, terrifying and wonderful: the bright morning sky shone in one eye, while the other was shrouded in pitch black. Long black eyelashes framed the eyes. There was a gap on her front teeth, he noticed. She had no age, but her hair was spun silver, covering her back like a cape. He was so naive in thinking only stags, snakes and bees had found home on her skin: all sorts of animals were depicted on her, but she made them disappear.

"I know you are afraid of them. Of me. But no need to. You'll be my companion tonight", and they started walking.

The night was calm, the stifling hot of the day finally giving way to a coolness which smelled like an approaching storm. He looked at the sky and saw an incredible amount of stars shining down, for them. They walked quietly through the lawn separating the forest and the place where the sheep were sleeping. When they got there, everyone was fast asleep.

"You know I could kill them. Now, right away. They are mine, this is my land," she said. "But you are the prince of Elis and I respect that. These animals are yours, too. I know you love them dearly and I don't want to make you suffer."

He bowed down again. "I don't deserve your mercy, phýlax."

"Your soul is kind and pure," she added. "Let's sit down. Tell me something about you."

They sat by a couple of baby sheep and she started petting them. Bees appeared again on her fingers, softly running through the animals' fleece. He knelt down by her side and suddenly felt at peace. She had known him for a long time, and he felt he had known her since he was born. She was the flash of light his eyes were always unable to locate. She was the old woman who used to feed his father's baby sheep. She was the miraculously sparkling water he drank from a fountain just outside his father's house. She was the crow cawing at him at crossroads, the white dog which sometimes appeared out of nowhere and strolled with his shepherd dogs, the bee which touched his lips without biting and flew away.

"I saw your mother giving birth to you. I saw you walking your first steps. I was there when you gave your one and only kiss. I was by your side when you first took your sheep away from home. I know the prayers you say at night. I know you're chaste and pure because you've been waiting for me all your life."

His mind buzzed like a nest of angry wasps: he knew she was right. Of course she was.

"I don't deserve this, Skylakítis. I am just your humble servant and I don't deserve your attention."

"You do, Endymion," and she stood up.

A silky sound and she was gone. He immediately fell asleep, leaning on a sheep's back, who bleated softly and went back to her own sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endymion uses three different expressions to refer to Artemis. "Ypochthonii" means something which is under the earth. "Phýlax" means guardian, and it's Hecate's name at Elis. "Skylakítis" is Artemis, protectress of dogs.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night in Olympia

The memory of that night stayed with Endymion for a long time. He didn't speak to anyone about the meeting with the goddess: it was a recollection he jealously kept hidden in his heart. It faded at times, and this terrified him, because he didn't want to forget. His life went by, but he felt different: behind the real world there was more, unfathomable mysteries and unimaginable forces, and he had got a taste of it. The complete heterochromia of Artemis' eyes often flashed in his memory and it all came back, stronger and more disquieting.

"Where is she?" he wondered every night before falling asleep. She was in the sky, he said to himself while watching the moon; she was hunting in the woods, he thought when his servants brought him some dead animals they found at dawn; she was wandering through the underworld, he knew when his darkness took over.  
He was always looking for tangible signs of her presence in his life but, besides the animal tokens, he could find none. He desperately wanted it to happen again but she had simply vanished.

"Is this you?" he asked the robin which followed his herd singing. "Is this you?" he whispered to the ladybug perched on his finger. "Is this you?" he softly moaned when he woke up desperately ashamed of his night hardness. No one and nothing ever answered.

"He's looking for you," her priests in Delos reported. "He never stops thinking about you," her priestesses in Sparta told her. "He pines for you," her nymphs kept reminding her. She always turned a deaf ear. Yet, everything brought back memories of him, of the way he showed his fear, the initial confusion and disbelief in his green eyes, followed by pure terror. His figure towering over her, his dark curls gently touched by the light of the moon, the prominent bridge of his curved nose, the beard hiding his features like a veil, the touch of his arm on her arm.

One night, he decided to walk through the hill where his herd was resting for the night. He had left Elis for Olympia, and he was enjoying his time there. The sheltering starry sky was laying its blanket on him and he felt at peace. The Alfeiós was nearby and he wanted to spend some time there, in solitude. He knelt by the bank of the river and prayed, until he heard the now familiar splashing sound from the opposite bank. He was startled but relieved. His heart throbbed, he could feel it pulsing in his throat. He didn't move but raised his head, desperate to get a glimpse of her. She saw him and moved to meet his eyes, the sleeping river to separate them. She didn't say a word, but unclasped the heavy leather armour she was wearing, revealing a thin muslim tunic shining with golden threads. The hem was bloody, and blood splotched her legs. Her arms – now clean – were dripping water. He was the silent witness of the goddess' chaste bath: he didn't dare to stare, but how he wanted to be one water drop running down her leg! The animals depicted on her were moving in a crazy flurry – bees buzzing from her fingertips to the wrist, but he could have sworn some were flying up to her face; the stags shaking their horned heads, enjoying the night toilette; snakes and black cats crawling up her legs. He saw an owl flapping its wings on her upper thigh, but he looked away, scared.

A swooshing sound and she was by his side. Her silvery hair was still tied at the nape of her neck, but she pulled one string and it all came down on her shoulders. He prostrated at her feet but she gently lifted him up.

"I have been looking for you," he whispered.

She drew nearer. "Is that so?" she whispered back and smiled.

He was unable to think, but instinctively brushed her arm. The stags moved away, annoyed, but she drew nearer.

"I've missed you," he murmured.

She put his arms around her waist.

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked. He was embarassed and yearning.

"Forget who we are and do what you want to do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tunic with golden threads is a homage to the warrior Clorinda, one of the characters of "La Gerusalemme liberata" by Torquato Tasso


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night: a new constellation is created

He cast down his eyes, unable to speak or do anything. The tension he felt inside weighed on him like a tombal stone. He was trapped under that smothering sensation and wanted to die, to run away screaming, to bury himself somewhere never to live again. Why did he say he had missed her? He couldn't look her in the eyes, but he realised he was starting to get hard. Not the faint morning hardness which made him feel terribly ashamed of himself, but something impossible to ignore. He was afraid of her, yet his reaction indicated quite a different story. 

“I know what you want, but you're too afraid,” she said in a mocking tone. “If I ask you, will you do it for me?”.

“I will do anything for you, Ypochthonii,” he replied. Her voice was low, husky. How could he refuse?

She drew near him and unclasped one shoulder of his tunic. The bees on her hands weren’t buzzing. Were they asleep? “Show your mortal body, then. Offer it to the light of the moon.” 

His mind exploded in screaming pieces, but with one smooth gesture he got rid of his garment and stood naked in front of the goddess. He noticed all the black silhouetted animals on her were strangely still, as if she had put them down to sleep. He felt the cool night breeze on his skin and he sighed. He knew he should have been embarrassed or felt violated, but he actually wasn't. It was the first time he was naked in the presence of a woman, but didn't even cover his erection: he just stood there, eyes to the ground, arms down by his side. The curls of his hair covered his eyes and cast shadows on his face.

“On your knees, Prince,” she ordered. Artemis was standing in front of him. 

Her gold-thread tunic looked more transparent now, almost sheer. He could see her body changing underneath: her hips looked fuller, her thighs thicker, her belly rounder; her breasts took more volume. She was literally metamorphing under his unbelieving eyes. Her tunic now was as thin as a veil, so much that he could see the dark hair shadowing her pubis. The moon cast a spectral light on her. She was darkness lit from within, like a candle flickering from inside a magic lantern.  
He fell on his knees, still unable to face the disparity of her eyes. But he couldn’t take his eyes off her, the shape of the Fertile Moon, smooth, silvery, waiting to be impregnated.  
She leaned down to him and offered her forefinger, coated in shiny, glassy liquid. She put it in his mouth and he sucked it clean. It tasted sweet, like spun sugar sprinkled with spices. 

“How do I taste?” and smiled. The veil barely covering her body was now the refuge of pink and golden shadows, a night sunset leaving a faint trail behind. He looked down at himself: he was already leaking. For the first time he looked her in the eyes, pleading. 

She knew and murmured: “Show me how you give yourself pleasure.”

Still kneeling, head down, he closed his right fist around his dick and did the sliding gesture he had repeated countless times in his life. His fingers felt almost detached from his body, yet he could feel every fold of his foreskin with extreme clarity. The smoothness of the skin on his tip. The wet thickness of his pre-come. All his senses were alert, but sensations were perceived in a daze, as if travelling through sticky air. His hand went all the way up, uncovering his tip, and there it stayed for a moment, then re-traced back the movement, all the way down, to cover the tip again. The movement soon became quicker, urgent, but not hastened. 

“Look at me, Endymion, when you reach the highest point of pleasure. Because that is mine.” 

She was still standing in front of him, near but out of his touch. How many boys had she tricked into the same trap before him, since the beginning of times, and even before? How many boys obliged because they couldn't say no? He was just a casualty, and that awareness washed over him in a wave of sadness. Still, his hand was pumping, the other frantically resisting to join it to make things end faster. Or to double the pleasure?  
There was still repulsion in his heart, but on one thing Artemis was right: he desperately wanted to do what he was doing and he had known since catching a glimpse of her on the other side of the brook. In any case, he couldn't stop now and at this point he didn't care.  
He threw his head back, shaking the curls from his face. He exposed his neck and all himself to the moon. The light explored every line of his body, every inch of skin, every muscle, every space, full or empty. It took a dip into his green irises, combed through his black hair and made him moan. It was Artemis making love to him in her luminous form. In that, he could feel tension burning in his lower belly, the center of anticipation and the source of release. But that didn't last long. Next thing he knew, he was prostrated, forehead on the ground, shaking from orgasming.

She drew near him and gave him a hand to lift him up. When he stood up, she knelt to the come he had released on the grass and took some on her palm, where it soon disappeared. Her tunic was white with gold threads again; her body had lost its fullness. 

“Look up to the sky tonight. I’ll make a new set of stars with you,” she said and set to move away. 

But he grabbed her arm to stop her. She looked surprised, almost outraged. 

“What is this?”

“I want you to stay here. With me.” 

Endymion was still naked, trying to keep hold of what had just happened, of what he had just said. He was shaking, tension still burning inside: he could almost feel another orgasm coming, but unable to emerge. He looked down to her to plead. He didn't dare to touch her: the animals were moving again and sending threatening looks at him. 

“Soon I will.” 

She didn't touch or kiss him, but vanished with the now familiar swooshing sound, leaving the Prince in despair. 

Senses confused and throbbing, he couldn't do anything but wear his tunic, not before trying to touch himself again. Everything was gone, though, his hardness and his will to be hard. He sadly walked to the resting place of his herd. He sat under a cypress and breathed deeply. His nostrils and insides filled with the woody scent coming from the tree, giving his mind peace. He could still taste the goddess on his tongue. That was what she tasted like then. The thought frightened him, but he wanted more, and wanted to catch it himself, with his hands, his face, his tongue, his whole being, not being fed on it like a dog. He then remembered her last words and looked up at the sky. He gasped at the view: ten stars were shining brightly in a kite shape, bordered by the astral form of Callisto and by two hunting dogs. 

“It's the Herdsman,” Artemis whispered in his ear. “It's you. It's my first gift to you. It's made of double and multiple stars. All my forms loving you.” 

He gazed at it in disbelief, until he slipped into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The constellation Artemis creates for her lover is Boötes. The name comes from the Greek, meaning "herdsman" or "ploughman". I've focused on the first meaning, even if there is no connection to Endymion in Greek mythology.
> 
> The constellations bordering it are, among the others, the Ursa Major and the Canes Venatici.
> 
> I'm on the fence when it comes to the Non-Con tag. The repulsion Endymion feels for Artemis is clearly stated several times, but the attraction is too. The goddess plucks the desire of masturbating out of the prince, but he doesn't do it willingly, at least at first. Hence the tag.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Break of dawn on Mount Olympus: daughter and father have a conversation.

“I want him to live forever.”

Artemis was sitting in the colonnade in her father’s house. She was wearing black night attire, silver hair matted with dew and cobwebs, shadowy milky stones dripping down her neck, under-eyes circled with purple moon-shaped marks. Two of her hunting dogs were dozing at her feet; even the silhouetted animals were asleep.  
It was the break of dawn over the Olympian peak. The West was still shrouded in darkness, but the sun would soon pierce the opposite side of the sky. At the moment, it was just a flickering promise. Her father was sitting on a stone bench, a book half-open on his lap, vague remnants of sleep in his eyes. 

He sighed. “But he will, my dear. You’ve turned him into a constellation. Those stars will shine forever. He will live forever.” He had been woken up by a tap on his door. He knew it was her before leaving the bed. He could see distraction, worry, excitement, shifting like shadows on her face, tired from night duties.

“You don't understand, Father. His mortal form, I mean. He can't die. He can't grow old. I can't accept it.” She was getting louder, but Father’s droning voice soothed her.

“Are you ok, honey? What's going on? Why are you asking me this?”

“Never mind. I know you won't do it,” and she stood up to leave. He raised one hand and she sat down again.

“It's not true. I haven't said that. But I want to understand. I see you are in pain. What’s this prince to you?”

“He’s everything.”

“Is he the Elis boy? Born of Calyce and Aethlius?”

“He is.”

“But he's afraid of you. The other night I saw terror in his eyes.”

“What do you mean ‘the other night’? Were you… spying on me? I can't believe it! This is outrageous. Simply outrageous.” Despite the rage, she kept still. Her black eye emitted an ominous glow, though, and the bees started crawling on her hands.

“But, honey, don't say that. I know and I see everything. I wasn't spying. I just knew.”

“It's true: at the moment there's fear in him. But I will make him love me. As you’ve done hundreds of times. With hundreds of women who weren't Mother.”

He sighed. “Oh, your mother. Her jealousy will drive me crazy.”

“Yeah, you always say that.”

“Are you sure you want this for him? What will it be? Eternal sleep for an eternal youth?”

She recoiled, horrified. “No. It would be terrible. No: just an eternal life. And he must be able to travel.”

Father tensed up. “Not that. You can’t ask me that.”

“Why not? We won't cause any trouble. I promise. Please, Father. Do it for me.”

“Eternal life, I can accept. But not travelling. He’s not one of us. And it's dangerous. He won't be able to control it. How could he? Shifting in time and place and keep his sanity intact? I can't do that for you or for anybody else.” The purple marks under her eyes started leaving watery trails on her cheeks. Silent tears without sobs. 

“Don't cry, baby.”

“Just when he's with me, then. Not when he's alone. I will have the control, not him. We will always travel together. Please, Father! Eternal life and travelling with me. Never alone. He will still be human.”

He sighed again, worried. “I don't know. Why do you want to give him the chance? Isn't eternal life enough? This will create a precedent. I can't do that. And your mother! Don't let me think of your mother. She would give me hell.”

“Don't think about her. Think about me. I love him.” Her eyes darted towards him, a movement amplified by the stags on her arms, shaking sleep from their antlers. “I know what's going on with Blondie. I’ve heard what she says about him. And just because I want him. I know she will steal him away from me. So he must be mine.” Her sister had always been a real thorn on her side. She hated her.

“That’s not the point. Your requests are impossible.”

“Please, Father. Please! Just for a while. Not forever. But please! Let him travel with me. I want him to know.”

“Will you use it as leverage? So he will love you?”

“He already loves me. There's love in him. Love for me. I saw it, pulsing in a corner of his heart. But he hasn't accepted it yet.”

“How much time do you need? One year? I won't settle for more. And eternal life? Are you sure?”

“One year! What is one year compared to eternity? This must be a joke.” She crossed her arms on her chest and sulked. “You don't want me to be happy.”

"Don't fight me on this because it will make things worse. Listen: he will be able to travel with you for one year. And he will think it was all a dream. His life will stop at 30. He won't grow older than that.”

“30? But that means old!” Tears started running again.

“Old???” He sat straight on the bench. That girl was arrogant. But he tried to comply. “Don't be silly. He will still be strong, but his beauty won't be as threatening as it is now. He will be wise. You could use part of that wisdom yourself,” and cracked a sly smile.

“Father! He’s only 20 now!” Artemis was about to burst into real tears. He could almost hear the owl on her thigh flapping its wings. 

“This won't be discussed further. But you must make him yours first. You will have him this young just once. After it happens, he will be 30.”

“This is so unfair! I don't want to live with an old man!” The snakes at her feet were hissing, thin tongues darting in and out, slimy bellies crawling up her legs.

“Use your reason here. Age doesn't apply to you, but you're way older than him by human standards. It just doesn't show.” Brutal but true, she conceded. “In any case, don't insist. And be quick. Do it tonight. I don't think I can keep your sister at bay much longer.”

“My sister! I hate her. Father, why is she so mean to me?”

“You know her. Attracted to all things beautiful. Endymion is beautiful. Too beautiful. Enjoy his vigorous self tonight because it won't last.”

“You're breaking my heart.” As if plucked from a bad dream, her hunting dogs lifted their heads and looked up at her. She didn't have any more dramatic gestures to do. That was it. Her wish had just turned into a nightmare. How could she accept it? Living with an old man until the end of times? And how would Endymion react? He didn't deserve that. 

“But can't you see? He won't be this beautiful and young, but he will be yours forever. You will be happy with him. Madly so. I promise.” He put away his book and stretched his arms towards her. “Now come here and give your father a hug.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No spoilers for upcoming chapters, but "travelling" here has a broader meaning...
> 
> "Blondie" is Venus. John Keats includes her as a character in "Endymion", the 1818 poem telling the love story between Endymion and Cynthia (the Moon). Even if in the poem she is not interested in him, I've imagined she is. I like thinking there's rivalry between her and Artemis, who are two of the twelve Olympians (both of them are daughters of Zeus).
> 
> Artemis says Endymion will be old at 30. She clearly wants him to be 20 forever, but 30 wasn't old in Ancient Greece, where average life expectancy was 70.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night in Pyrgos: lovers meet again and seal a deal

He thought it was her on a glamsy afternoon. A fleeting figure climbing the hills around the Pyrgos plain, appearing in the sunlight and disappearing under patches of cloudy shadows. He heard the echo of the hunting horns and the horses’ hooves clapping on the rocky soil. Again a flash on a green backdrop, vanishing in the blink of an eye. Was it her? Or someone who looked like her? Was it her hunting party or just a group of locals roaming the hills? Not knowing made him feel restless. 

Lately his dreams had got darker, verging to nightmares, and he felt at loss. A presence haunted his sleeping hours and frightened him. He perceived it as one acknowledges the approach of a shark in calm waters. The shark approaches and scans the surroundings, all its being aiming at getting itself a prey. Sliding smoothly in the still waters of his dreams, intruding his secret night reflections, he could feel it circling his consciousness and waiting for something to drop, for a breach to open, for a way to get in. 

Although distracted, his mind never diverted from his main goal: Artemis. He had last met her weeks before but he still woke hard at times, the memory of the shattering orgasm lingering. He thought about their encounters as events suspended in time and place, never to be replicated again. He kept reminding himself that for her he was just a temporary pastime but now he was looking out for her, scanning the hills where people were hunting to see if she led them. 

After weeks of travelling, he had finally led his men and animals near the coast. They had stopped in an open field, the sea a vast rolling liquid cradle in the distance. Everybody was tired and yearning a meal and a good night's sleep. When they settled down, the moon had already climbed the clear sky and the stifling hot of the day was slowly retreating, replaced by a chilly breeze blowing from the hills. The animals laid on the grass and stretched their legs, the lambs softly leaning on their mothers' bodies, faintly bleating, then silence. When his men saw him leaving, they didn't question him: to their eyes, Endymion was a good master and a pious man who retreated to pray and meditate. That was what he used to do before meeting the goddess, but since then his desires and intentions had drastically changed.

He was slowly walking to the hills, following the resounding thread of the brook. When he got to a nearby wood, he noticed it was enclosed by a thick row of laurel bushes. His heart started beating loud in his ears. He reached a clearing and there she was, waiting for him. He ran to her and fell down on his knees, head on her lap, his one and only hope fulfilled. She was sitting on a stone and took him in her arms, caressing his curls and enjoying the tension of his muscles.

“I have been waiting for you so long,” he whispered. 

“Now I'm here.” She paused. “I won't leave you tonight.”

“Why, Ypochthonii? What have I done to deserve your favours?” He glanced at her arms: the animals and insects on them moved slowly, cautiously, but not menacingly.  
“You are the one, Endymion. I've chosen you.”

His questioning look pushed her forward. “Tonight you'll be mine and then nothing will be the same again.”

He sighed. “Things have changed since I first met you. I died in that moment. A servant - not a shepherd, not a prince - is now kneeling in front of you.”

She smiled. Now her eyes were both icy blue. He noticed it but continued speaking. 

“I was born to be yours. I've never touched anyone and never been touched by anyone but you.” 

Now her eyes were changing again, as if clouded by darkness and light alternatively. As the moon appears in different shapes in the sky, Artemis was morphing before Endymion's eyes. She was shredding her day skin and slipping into the shadowy realm of Selene, into the darker recesses of Hecate. Her white tunic turned into an impalpable black veil studded with diamond stars, barely covering her now fuller body. Her skin was devouring the light from the sky and releasing it from within. She was ready for him. 

“You know what to do,” she whispered in his ear. 

When his hand touched the black veil she was wearing, this disappeared, melting under his fingers. So he touched her luminous skin, on which the black silhouetted animals stood out as cut-out pictures in a magic lantern. He lost himself in that gesture, surrendering any control he might have had on himself. He stood up, knowing he would tower over her, stripped himself naked by unclasping the tunic he was wearing. His soul was pulsing with fear and excitement. He kissed her, hands reaching for her hips. She opened her thighs and pushed his hand between them. His fingers tentatively touched, then explored, finally penetrated. What he was doing went directly to his brain and down to his dick, even if he willingly ignored the signals his own body was sending. 

They lay on the grassy ground. He knelt between her open legs and went down on her. He was not a dog who could be fed on what his master's hand gave him; he needed to take what the goddess had once given him a taste of. The thick liquid he licked from her looked glassy by the light of the moon and tasted as her remembered - sugared spice. His tongue was coated with it but he smeared his chest with it too, where it left a light blue mark he didn't notice. The goddess’ body was still morphing under his touch, responding to his actions, preparing to act back. Most of all, she was enjoying feeling his weight over her, the deafening beating of his heart, the relentless flow of blood, tension accumulating. Endymion was pure and untouched like an uncharted territory, open like a map unrolled on a table, but, most of all, willing to experience the unknown. Suddenly he moved from her and sat on the ground, head down, come on his thigh. 

“Unexpected, right? But don't be ashamed,” she said. “It will happen again tonight.”

She was emitting a faint light, the moon washing its silver tide over her. The long hair splayed around her looked like spun metal. The bees were crawling up her arms and neck, but he could have sworn one was resting on her face too. The snakes on her feet hissed his name, so he drew nearer. 

“What are you afraid of?” she asked.

Silence. Her questions were accessories, since she could read his mind. 

“What is it? My eyes? The animals? Or that rage you feel surging in your chest? Having bad thoughts without knowing how to release them? Your sexual frustration? Me teasing you like that? Threatening not to let you in? Showing you what pleasure is but stopping you from having it? The shame of being attracted to someone you are terrified of? The shame of coming without being able to stop it? Or there’s more?” 

The more Artemis pressed, the more Endymion hated her. She was playing with him. 

“Why don’t you do it? Be a man. Do it.” 

He started shaking. 

“Let it go. Do it. Do it. You’ll feel better if you do it. Now!”

He snapped and jumped on her, grabbing her by the throat. His hold was tightening around her neck. 

“Say it,” she murmured.

“Take me down,” he screamed. “If I’m to be yours, I want to be taken down.”

She smiled. “Now that’s a good boy. Enough with this moonlit Arcadia.” 

She closed her eyes and opened them in the Underworld. Howling dogs welcomed their arrival. Upon the realisation his hands were still clenched around her throat, Endymion pushed himself away, horrified. 

“I’ve set your darkness free. That’s it. But see where it’s led us to. Isn’t it beautiful?” 

It was the same place but different. The trees were laden with foggy creepers, shadows perched on the branches, faint lights of torches burning in the distance and dogs barking. One gesture from her and they stopped. She was wearing a black cloak. Both her eyes were black now. Whatever good or bad feeling he had been harboring in his heart, it had been wiped out. He would never recover from what he had just seen, he kept repeating to himself, because his sanity was irremediably gone. 

“This is down,” she announced, walking on a lawn creeping with sickly lights.

He wanted to scream his heart out until he lost his senses, but somewhere he found the strength to speak. “Kynegetis, I don’t like it here.”

She laughed. “I knew you wouldn’t! But you looked so sure while you were trying to choke me. Or have you forgotten it yet?”

He hadn't forgotten but couldn't wrap his head around what had just happened. The violence he had released attacking Artemis was frightening. But was it his violence? Or was she manipulating his impulses to achieve her goals? He was ashamed of himself, of his weak will, of his inability to resist her. He couldn't stop thinking about her luminous body and wondering what feelings he could experience while penetrating it. The orgasm he had had in front of her had poked part of his mind, and now stood there like a glass shatter sticking out of one's hand. 

He dropped down to his knees. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Will you forgive me?”

“Always,” she replied, giving him a hand to stand up. "Again and again. You are delicious, Endymion. Where could I find a soul as crystal clear as yours?". She took a look around and sighed: "Too bad you don't like it here. We'll try again next time. But now let’s go back up.”

Her eyes closed, the world turned and they were back to the laurel-enclosed wood. This time Endymion was determined not to fall into her creepy traps; furthermore, his body was sending him messages he couldn’t ignore longer. Sitting one next to the other, still clothed in darkness, they kissed. Endymion’s mouth and his heart opened up like a flower to a bee. 

“Make me do what you want, Nyktophaneia,” and he implored to make him love her.

She removed her cloak and disclosed her radiant skin again. She straddled her lover, whose chest was still bringing the light blue sign of her essence. By the light of the moon Endymion’s features appeared chiseled out of dark marble: the straight line of his nose, the arch of his brow bones, the curve of his upper lip, the muscles on his body, his hardness, the loud panting, all about him was a lure for her. When he penetrated her, he felt his inner self was about to die with fear and cold, but the chill creeping up his spine soon disappeared. The more she moved on him, the more the animals on her disappeared, silhouettes dissolving into each other to form a map of the sky above. He released his come into her while the constellation of Bootes was forming on her thigh. For a moment her shape trembled, the confines of her body blurry and indistinct, but soon she was flesh again. He kissed her and lay by her side, eyes wandering through the stars on her skin. 

“They make no sound,” she said. Then pointed a finger to the constellation she had created with him. “This is you. You’re beautiful in all your forms.”

His curls were shadowing his face, darkness and light playing hide-and-seek on him. He left a soft kiss on her shoulder, where Cygnus was spreading its wings. 

“Something has happened tonight, hasn’t it?”

She didn’t reply, but kept caressing his arm. 

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

She sighed. “You're right. But be assured your bad dreams will never come back. No more. No more circling sharks trying to get into your mind.”

She knew.

“You are different because you’re mine now. Tonight you’ve left your mortal coil in this wood. You will never die.” 

She could see him changing, all his being speeding ten years forward. It was bewildering and heart-breaking, but it was the only way. His muscles were intact and firm, but they were losing their youthful elasticity; fine wrinkles were appearing at the corners of his eyes, one imperceptibly going through his forehead; she could see some silver threads emerging from the darkness of his curls; but the shoulders were stronger, and so were his legs. He had shed his young skin and emerged as a more mature version of himself. 

“Anything your heart desires,” and he knelt by her side.

She removed the curls from his face. “You’re older now, but you’ll never get older than this. You’ll still be the Prince of Elis, but your nights will be mine and mine only.”

“You’ve trapped my heart into a cage of shiny briars. Only you hold the key to it. My heart is pure and is yours.” The chilly breeze from the hills was drying the wet veil covering his skin and was murmuring how beautiful he was. Under the sheltering vault of stars Artemis and Endymion sealed the deal by falling asleep side by side. As if creeping from under a blanket, all the animals chased the stars away from the goddess’ skin and retrieved their rightful place on her, not to sleep but to keep guard. The stags were the last to rest their heads on each other’s body, eyes almost closed but vigilant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endymion uses two epithets referring to Artemis in her Hecate form. One is "Kynegetis", meaning "leader of dogs" (a reference to the dogs welcoming her arrival to the Underworld); the other is "Nyktophaneia", meaning "night shining".


End file.
